At the end of the tunnel, the winter’s wind threatens

But he has done everything as planned

excellent grades/wife/house/kids

he has done everything on time

and in order.

The sky can sink and disappear

Him, he has done everything as planned

If the sun shines today,

it’s out of rivalry with the one

who learned how to become his own best ally.

But at the horizon,

the winter’s wind hurls in its furrows

a golden scythe which moves to cut

the tall rigid grasses at the end of their season.

His uprooted and fragmented existence quietly goes

into hiding between the empty rows of a library,

the blank space between words in the book of the living

forever dwelling there till it doesn’t matter anymore.